


The Sweetest Eyes

by skelegro



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, F/F, Humour, Inappropriate Sexual Themes, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:29:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24235075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skelegro/pseuds/skelegro
Summary: Remus didn’t quite get the joke, but Sirius appeared to be wallowing in the same pride as James, as if this was their best trick yet.Or, the boys take on some inappropriate valentines.
Relationships: Poppy Pomfrey/Minerva McGonagall, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 11
Kudos: 20





	1. The Plan

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Use of a homophobic term in a non-malicious context.

They approached Remus with their ‘ingenious’ plan the Saturday before Valentine’s Day, led by an irrepressible James. Although Remus had been missing from the original discussion, and had thus lost his opportunity to firmly dig any new ideas from his friends’ respective minds, he was declared an integral part of the scheme already; his name (or ‘Moony’) had been written into the notes at least half a dozen times. His gratefulness that Severus Snape was not involved was quashed as his friends began to elaborate on what, at first, had seemed to be a somewhat tame and unusual prank for the great Marauders.

“I still don’t understand.”

“So, we each get assigned a member of staff — ladies only,  _apparently_ — and they become our valentine,” explained Sirius, gesticulating a little too wildly for a perfectly competent explanation.

“I got that part, Padfoot. But what exactly does that... involve?” asked Remus, the words ‘dodgy’ and ‘flirt’ still playing on his mind from James’ original, eager recitation.

“I’ve broken it down into three phases!” declared James, lifting a different piece of inky parchment. “We start with the cards at breakfast — musical howlers, perhaps, as Wormtail suggested; then throughout the day we have to each make a conscious effort to leave little gifts for the ladies — I’ll get Mum to send chocolates and things; and finally, after dinner, we each confess our ‘love’, with gifts, whilst the rest hide under the cloak and watch on in  _delight_ .”

Remus didn’t quite get the joke, but Sirius appeared to be wallowing in the same pride as James, as if this was their best trick yet. Peter, ever eager to please, was nodding graciously and humming his approval, though his distinctive nervous twitch was nudging at his nose.

He gave in.

“...I see, I think. Well, I suppose I’ll take Pop-Pomfrey, if I must.”

“Fat chance, Moony.” James snorted, firmly tapping at the crossed option next to Remus’ name on his parchment. “The worst she’ll do to you is awkwardly brush it off.”

“And what kind of reaction are we hoping for, exactly?” asked Remus, more bemused than perturbed by James’ desire to so publicly risk detentions and/or injury for very little reward. His mind flicked to Lily Evans, the redhead sat opposite him in the library only half an hour ago, and he decided that this stunt very probably involved impressing her somehow.

“Well, we’re expecting a detention from McGonagall — sorry about that — and Pommers might dare to slap Padfoot, which should be—“

“McGo— You’re giving Poppy to  _Sirius_ ?” spluttered Remus, flicking his eyes between the three of them. Thanks to his Quidditch fanaticism, Poppy had never been particularly keen on James; if Prongs wanted an explosive reaction, Remus couldn’t help but wonder why he wouldn’t step up himself. 

“Unlike the teachers, she doesn’t get to witness my brilliance in class, mate,” sighed Sirius, with his usual air of haughty grace. “According to reliable sources, namely the lovely Marlene, she thinks I’m just a bit of an arrogant prick.”

“As if you’re not...” muttered Peter miserably, picking at his bedclothes. As Wormtail’s support gradually filtered away, Remus felt his own anxiety rising up from the pit of his stomach. 

“But she doesn’t mind you! You’re always joking with her!” Remus would concede, if pushed, that Poppy’s tenderness was offered sparingly to all the Marauders bar himself, but it made his point no less true: she hadn’t even nearly slapped Sirius yet, though he’d pushed her boundaries repeatedly. There were two very worrying prospects in front of him at this thought: James and Sirius were either preparing to offend their teachers so mortally that Poppy might never treat Remus again, or else Sirius was receiving an easy option to make the whole affair worse for the two more submissive members of the group.

“Well, we are getting married.” It was the kind of guff that usually made Poppy smirk and tut.

“Give it a rest, Sirius, she’s out of earshot...” huffed Peter, courageously for him, though only having glanced around first, as if the matron might pop out from under one of their beds.

“The gifts will get excellent reactions, trust me,” James interposed smoothly, before Sirius could knock an inattentive Peter from his bed.

“Well?”

“Sexy—“

“Fuck off,” said Remus, having heard quite enough. He knew, of course, that he would still do anything and everything for his friends — they had stood by him and his furry little problem so loyally — but he didn’t need a detailed picture of the presents. He balked at the idea of Sirius completely humiliating Poppy, who was a kind woman, and not averse to the occasional spot of appropriate humour. He knew the others were aware of this pleasant nature, even if it was scarcely aimed at them, for they had witnessed her caring for Remus, secretly and not so secretly, countless times. This evidently didn’t stab at any guilt.

“It’ll be hilarious!” James asserted, unrelentingly positive.  _Yes_ , thought Remus,  _this definitely has something to do with Lily_ .

“We’re students.”

“We’re having fun!”

And James certainly was, or would be. Remus couldn’t bear to let him down. “...Well, I’m not handing over anything inappropriate to McGonagall. No way.”

“Fine,” relented James, well aware that Remus could be a difficult catch for a prank as it was. “Pete, you take —“

“I’m not, either!” For once, in a rare moment of respect, Peter’s refusal was actually taken into account. Remus took a moment to savour the memory of Prongs’ nod in their oft passive friend’s direction, even if it was accompanied by a brief but dramatic glower.

“ _Fine._ I’ll take McGonagall; I suppose I’m the only bloke who could handle our Minnie. Moony, you take Pince.”

“But she’ll ban me from the library, James. It’s this place with books and —“

James waved his hand dismissively. “If I needed to use it, I would. Pete can take Pince, then, seeing as the library really is a foreign country to him. Who would you like?”

“No one, preferably,” Remus sighed. It was Sirius who gave him a pointed ‘we’re-all-Marauders-now-get-involved’ look. “Hooch?” The flying instructor had always been the most inclined towards banter of the staff, particularly of the adult kind. 

“Prongs doesn’t want the trouble, what with being her Quidditch star,” Sirius answered monotonously, but his sudden exasperation was evident in the way he rolled his eyes. Remus knew they were in agreement: Hooch simply wouldn’t be appalled enough for James’ liking.

“She’s more likely to get me kicked off the team for misbehaviour than McGonagall — Minnie can’t take the risk.” James’ argument was not particularly convincing, for there was no doubt that he was the most at risk, but they let him have it.

“Sprout?” suggested Remus, thinking of the Herbology teacher’s frequent booming laugh. James didn’t immediately rebuff him, which was already a positive sign, but he didn’t appear convinced by the result he was picturing.

“I think she’ll lean towards confusion rather than anger...” mused James, tapping his chin with his index finger as his eyebrows danced beneath an untidy veil of black hair.

“Min and Pop will more than make up for that, mate,” said Sirius, “and Pince might kill Pete. That would be good, wouldn’t it?”

“Hey!”

“A fair point, a fair point...” James began his untidy scrawl, adding ‘P. Sprout’ as if she had not been an option before Remus’ suggestion. Remus could understand why: Sprout was undoubtedly the most affable staff member, even above Poppy, and though she never played favourites, she had always taken care to praise and encourage him. His anxiety ebbed away. “You can have Sprout. Is she called Pandora, or Penelope, or...?”

“Pomfrey calls her Mona,” supplied Remus instinctively, which elicited a grin from James; he recognised that their relative goody-goody no longer had a peripheral place in the plan, which would only serve to improve it tenfold.

“A nickname? Even better. We’ll add that to the card...”

“...What if she thinks it’s Madam Pomfrey?” asked Peter, and Remus found that he couldn’t entirely fault the line of questioning. No one else had ever used the sobriquet to his knowledge, and certainly not so liberally.

“She won’t. Pomfrey’s banging Slughorn, we told you,” retorted James, before attempting to share a look with Remus. As he privately disagreed, this glance was avoided.

“I’m still not convinced,” voiced Sirius, as ever the one to push a differing opinion, though certainly not for Wormtail’s sake. “I know I jest, but she has to be a lesbo; I’ve never known a woman so relatively impervious to my many charms.”

“She blushed when you complimented her new hairstyle at the last full moon, Sirius!” Peter piped up, keen to remind the Black boy of his magnetism. Remus chose to ignore him entirely, exasperated by the sycophancy.

“Because she’s jealous of my hair. She was simply pleased.” Sirius swished his locks; Remus privately conceded that he  did have better hair than the matron. He also managed to keep to himself that Sirius appeared to have the right idea about Poppy, even if his vain logic could be faulted.

“She’s always with Sluggy.”

“And? You’re always following Evans around, has she banged you yet?” Sirius narrowly dodged a book to his head.

“...We’re using ‘Mona’,” said James with an accepted degree of finality. “Makes sense, with Pop and Min. We’ll call Pince ‘Irm’ or something, make it a pattern.”

“Have you worked out how to enchant a howler to sing anonymously yet?” asked Remus, returning to James’ intention for the names.

“Are you offering? Cheers, Moony.” Though James was close to a punch, he offered Remus an irresistible challenge, at the very least. His mind began to whir with ideas momentarily, taking inspiration from some of their past exploits.

“Fine. Right. And about these presents, James...”

“I’ll handle them,” winked Sirius, his mouth quirked into a flirtatious grin.

Remus was disheartened to hear it.


	2. Morning

By the time Valentine’s Day rolled around, Remus’ enthusiasm was battling with James’ own excitement for the top spot. Although Peter had fought to use  _Colovaria_ to make the four envelopes a gaudy pink — perfect spellwork, even if Remus had decided to tweak the colour afterwards — Remus had been almost entirely in charge of enchanting their howlers to sing. Sirius had contributed far more than James, eager to belt out three altered Muggle tunes for Remus, as a reference point for his work; Prongs was content as the backseat master of the whole idea. Their final practice had occurred without a hitch, eliciting pride and anticipation in equal measure; there was no doubt that they had pulled together to form four very impressive messages.

Despite his reluctance to help with the construction side of things, it was James who traipsed up to the Owlery alone to send off the pastel envelopes at the start of breakfast, leaving the other Marauders to keep an eye on the staff table. It was this that posed an issue, and left the three boys talking in hushed tones, lest eager ears (Lily’s, for instance) overhear them.

“It’s not  _my_ fault,” Peter argued to his plate, his eye fixed on the beans swimming there.

“You must have known,” hissed Sirius. “That’s why you picked such a shit song, didn’t want to make the effort.” Truthfully, Remus didn’t think that the other songs could be described as the antonymy of ‘shit’, but Sirius had always favoured Muggle music, particularly in comparison to Peter’s choice of Celestina Warbeck.

“I didn’t(!)—“ Sirius shot Peter a look that silenced him instantly, which told Remus that he recognised some truth in the admonishments the Black boy had been piling on him. “She might just be late,” he finished lamely.

The librarian was not, in fact, late; she did not turn up at all. James nearly was, however — he bounded into the Great Hall at quite a speed eventually, with his unkempt hair even more ruffled than usual. As planned, he looked as if he’d been out flying, broomstick still in hand, as opposed to preparing an embarrassing scene for some notable members of staff. He took his saved seat beside Sirius with a grin, immediately piling food onto his plate.

“Didn’t expect ol’ Dumbledore to be here, you know,” he nodded towards the staff table, talking with his mouth full in a very un-James way. Though he could be criticised for plenty of things, he did at least have impeccable table manners. Usually. “Where’s—“

“Don’t.” Remus shook his head as Peter began to cower. “Just don’t.”

Luckily, James didn’t have the time nor the inclination to push the subject; the post began to arrive before anyone could speak. Remus caught his Daily Prophet deftly, offering the cover a quick glance and a satisfied nod before tucking the newspaper into his bag for later reading. The cards were plentiful this year, at their age, as James had predicted; Sirius sighed ruefully as a pile began to form on his breakfast, just barely overtaking James’ own stash. Peter appeared to be very satisfied with his three, one of which came from the other Marauders, though Remus rolled his eyes as the same number dropped into his beans. One had a very distinctive air of Lily, which she confirmed when she met his eyes and beamed madly, and he knew that James had written on the measly card from his friends, but the  _third_ —

“Here we go, boys!” Sirius had caught sight of Professor Sprout sifting through her post, pulling a flash of pastel pink from between her paper and a couple of innocent envelopes. 

As planned by Remus, with a surprising level of input from Peter, the modified howlers would not sound simultaneously, even if the staff members opened them together. The Marauders had every desire to prolong the hilarity of their prank, and Sirius in particular was keen for everyone to catch the lyrics – if only because polluting the student body with ‘filthy Muggle nonsense’ would infuriate their foes in Slytherin House, including Regulus.

But as Sprout slit open the envelope, there was still only the usual tumult of breakfast, with a sprinkling of girlish giggles on top. They waited.

“Moony, has something—“

The eventual sound was deafening; even the shredding noise the letter made as it folded into place boomed around the Hall. They watched in delight as a befuddled Sprout flicked her gaze to her left, then her right, then towards her Hufflepuffs. Dumbledore maintained an expression of wry amusement, inclining his head forward to inspect the strength of the Colour Change charm. Remus thought he seemed pleased.

“HANDS, TOUCHING HANDS... REACHING OUT, TOUCHING ME, TOUCHING YOU... SWEET MONA MINE... DA DA DA... GOOD TIMES NEVER SEEMED SO GOOD...”

Over the din, the boys watched as their fellow students fell about in hysterics, all frantically covering their ears. Though Remus was of the opinion that the voice had a somewhat fuzzy quality, he was contented to note that the words were perfectly intelligible – and having the right effect. Sprout’s round face was Gryffindor red and her eyes were blown wide, but she was chuckling heartily along with her pupils as Madam Hooch clapped her on the back with glee. When the song ended, the paper burst into pink flames, and the smoke breezed away in the shape of a heart.

By the time Dumbledore had finally managed to calm the room, Sirius was bouncing in his seat and gesturing frantically in Professor McGonagall’s direction. Whilst Remus hadn’t thought of her expression as one of outright displeasure during Sprout’s humiliation, she had also been one of the most reserved individuals in the Hall. He momentarily hoped that she might recognise her howler and destroy it with an easy flick of her wand. Unlike her superior, however, she had not taken a close enough look at her colleague’s letter.

“She hasn’t got a clue!” James muttered, capturing Lily’s attention. He noticed her staring and winked in return. Remus briefly recalled the card and gift James had been painstakingly preparing for her for the past two weeks, and saw that they sat in perfect view on her pile of post.

Prepared for the sudden increase in volume, or perhaps just partially deafened, the boys hardly winced when McGonagall’s howler leapt from her hands and screeched to the Hall. Even Lily failed to flinch, evidently having caught on to their scheme.  _By design_ ,  added a voice in Remus’ head.

“OH MINNIE... WELL YOU CAME AND YOU GAVE WITHOUT TAKING... BUT I SENT YOU AWAY... OH MINNIE... WELL YOU KISSED ME AND–“

Having recognised the song, and correctly assumed Remus’ involvement in choosing it, Lily leant over. Though there was a flash of her usual disdain for James and Sirius, mixed with something unfamiliar and hopeful, her lips were quirked into a smirk as she mouthed something about excellent spellwork. The Head of Gryffindor evidently failed to agree, as the howler exploded ahead of time at her hand — on this occasion, the flame was  not pink.

“She’s really not pleased...” said Peter, louder than he seemed to realise. “What if it’s detention for a month? What if it’s  _worse_ than detention?” He was wringing his hands nervously, practically inviting a punch, but the others chose the unusual route of blind comfort. 

“She can’t prove you’re involved, Wormtail, not after I’ve spoken to her.”

“He’s right,” agreed Sirius, nodding fervently. Remus thought it was all bollocks, and that Peter’s fears were well founded, so he kept his mouth shut. “Calm down a bit, mate, or you’ll ruin my pièce de résistance.”

“I don’t think she’s going to open it,” interjected Remus, his eyes trained on the face of the Healer he knew so well. Poppy was holding the howler aloft, inspecting it carefully, and appeared to be in no rush to suffer the same fate as the two women before her.

“What does it do if she doesn’t?”

“It won’t sing if she doesn’t open it, so just the usual howler insults eventually,” Remus shrugged, displeased to watch Sirius deflate. “Unless...”

“ _Unless_ _?_ ”

“It  _will_ sing if someone tries to take it from her. That was the back-up plan.”

Their eyes followed Poppy’s hand as she tentatively tucked the letter partially under her plate, relatively unnoticed. Only Sirius managed to maintain a buoyancy, unfazed by this setback. As they had agreed to avoid drawing too much attention to themselves early on, Sirius immediately threw himself on Marlene’s mercy.

“McKinnon, do me a favour: get Dorcas to call to Mary to tell that Angus kid to draw attention to Pomfrey’s post — _loudly_ .” Retaining some of the haughty grandeur instilled in his youth, Sirius failed to use his manners. Remus cleared his throat. “Trust me. ” And again. “ _Please._ ”

That did the trick. Marlene made sure to flash Remus a smug smile before she slowly turned away from them. Within twenty seconds, on the order of his self-imposed commander, the young Gryffindor prankster Angus Abernathy began to laugh hysterically. Heads turned all over the place, but Remus kept his eyes trained on Padfoot. The two Marauders shared a look of triumph.

It worked like a dream. Sirius was a genius. Remus was  _enjoying_ himself.

“Madam Pomfrey’s got one too, look, look!” 

“Ooh, open it!”

“Go on, give us a listen!”

Sirius, James, and, to a lesser extent, Peter had all concluded that their fellow men would be more delighted to watch Poppy flush than the others. It had been James who first argued that she was the most attractive — her features were less severe, her figure womanly without being large — and Sirius who had explained that she had the most ‘widespread sex appeal’. Remus couldn’t see it and told them so, which they agreed was due to both their familiarity and her maternalism. He supposed she wasn’t old, surely only thirty-odd, and out of her uniform she could look rather pretty, but she was hardly a match for the girls their age.  _Hardly a match for Sirius_ . Peter had said only one word on the subject, but it was the worst of all. 

_Healer_ .

Broken from his tortuous reverie by another Scottish shout, from a more familiar source, Remus turned just in time to see McGonagall attempting to destroy Poppy’s howler. When it exploded, there was the briefest pause... and then the Great Hall rumbled with noise, goblets shaking, whilst McGonagall sat flabbergasted. The volume was worse than ever; even Dumbledore grimaced fleetingly at the amplification.

“LET’S GET IT ON... AHHH, POPPY, LET’S GET IT ON... LET’S LOVE, POPPY... LET’S GET IT ON, SUGAR...”

They had struggled somewhat with this choice. It was Sirius, lazing on his bed and absentmindedly attempting to destroy James’ blasted snitch, who had eventually argued for songs with ‘baby’ in them. He alone had insisted on using the raunchiest offering, though he wasn’t spoilt for choice by the paltry selection of Muggle ballads offered up by Remus (‘ _No, Padfoot, Bowie wouldn’t be as appropriate_ ’).

Grimacing as his mind temporarily tormented him with a literal image of the lyrics blaring around the Hall, he flicked his gaze up to the staff table, and noted Poppy’s expression with distinctive remorse. She shared McGonagall’s flared nostrils and Sprout’s ruddy cheeks, and there was laughter, but it was tense and taut and failing to meet her wet eyes. And if Remus could see that, surely...

“Maybe we should stop. Leave it here, you know? I don’t want Poppy getting upset.” Because if Hogwarts was his home away from home, Poppy was, in many ways, his mum away from mum.

“Upset?” Sirius scoffed. “She’s cracking up, Moony!”

Maybe she was — Sirius knew women better than he did, after all — but Remus reasoned that he had seen her crying enough in the past to recognise true distress, however relatively minor it might be. He resolved to have a word with her soon, from behind a chocolate barrier perhaps, to smooth the creases of discomfort.

Following her initial puzzlement, with what Remus suspected to be a slither of curiosity, McGonagall waved her wand, and the howler screeched a final time. Students groaned.

“Moody bitch...” muttered Sirius, spearing another sausage before tucking in greedily. He was almost finished when he spoke again. “Just because  she’s never getting any. Probably.”

“I don’t want to think about her getting any,” said James, midway through sipping on some hideous green juice. Sirius didn’t believe in health fads, to Remus’ great relief. “That’s the love of my life up there.”

“Not Lily?” smirked Sirius, attracting the redhead’s attention once again; Prongs always could be counted on to distract their Padfoot from a ghastly mood. It so turned out, later that morning, that his abilities extended even to the unintentional...

It was Tranfiguration after breakfast. They dropped in to Gryffindor Tower first, for James wanted to drop off his broom and Peter had forgotten two books, and then made a mad dash for McGonagall’s classroom. To Remus’ surprise, she wasn’t yet present.

“Remus!” called Lily, patting the space next to her. With only a glance back at the Marauders, who had dispersed already to their usual sanctioned, separated places, he took the seat gratefully.

“Thanks. Dorcas?”

“Wants to sit with Peter,” answered Lily, nodding over to the brunette who was fiddling with something on Peter’s collar. “ Professor McGonagall will notice, of course, but she might allow it just this once.”

Remus hummed. He was inclined to agree with Lily; Dorcas was a judicious girl, and thus wouldn’t have attracted McGonagall’s attention beforehand as an infatuated troublemaker — they could be lucky.

“So–“

But the door opened before Lily could speak again. In swept their professor with her emerald robes billowing impressively behind her, her hat’s absence exposing a tight, dark bun that matched her scowl. It wasn’t an unusual expression on her, certainly not to the Marauders, but even Remus thought that her fury was overkill. At the next desk, Sirius’ shoulders were quivering marginally with barely suppressed amusement.

“Professor! When did you plan on telling me?” James’ forlorn pout was a masterclass in acting. “My heart was utterly broken at breakfast...”

McGonagall sniffed angrily, but didn’t seem to suspect; as they had hoped, adapting howlers was presumed to be a little beyond their abilities. Remus wondered if Flitwick harboured suspicions, and filed away a note to ask the Charms teacher at a later date. Though he wasn’t one to seek praise, he was in need of the reassurance in recent weeks.

“It was a ridiculous prank. No doubt concocted by— It’s quite irrelevant, in any case.”

“Oh, come off it! Who’s the lucky man, Minnie?” Sirius cried, grinning even as five house points ebbed from their hourglass for his insolence. She didn’t answer.

“And what about Pomfrey? Bet she’s in her office now with —“

It happened rather quickly. Remus wanted to shout:  _no, you can’t, don’t show it, don’t rise to it_ . But she could, if she wanted to; after all, hadn’t he been perfectly aware of McGonagall’s requited feelings for Poppy for some time?

_“You look exhausted.”_

_ “ **You** look exhausted.” _

_“No. I think I’ve got an hour in me yet.”_

_“Only an hour?”_

Had they ever truly hidden it, or were they simply discreet? Well – usually discreet. There had been a chaste kiss or two, practically in his ears after the full moon, and they conversed comfortably in rooms with open doors. And then there was the small matter of _now_ , of James Potter’s admonishment; an incensed McGonagall was standing over Prongs as he hissed quite literally _as_ a goose, a serrated tongue hanging from his lips.

“...And that is an excellent example of human Transfiguration. As my willing assistant, Mr Potter will lose only ten house points for his...  _nearly_ inappropriate remark. He will be grateful that it wasn’t twenty. Any questions?”

It had been a long time coming, but Remus was sure that the inevitable realisation was finally dawning on James: he was not, in fact, the loveable Lothario he thought he was. Sirius was delighted by his friend’s punishment.

Nevertheless, one thing was clear: the Marauders’ joke was growing ever frail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always very much appreciated!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter universe, nor the songs used in this chapter.
> 
> Songs:  
> ‘Sweet Caroline’ - Neil Diamond  
> ‘Mandy’ - Barry Manilow  
> ‘Let’s Get It On’ - Marvin Gaye

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter universe.
> 
> Title: ‘Your Song’ by Elton John


End file.
